Following a trend in South Tampa, townhouses will soon replace the mobiles homes. Residents say they will miss it.
By RON MATUS
Published June 13, 2003
There's no spa, no golf course, no private access to a palm-studded beach. But Buddy Young and Linda Meier call their home "The Resort" just the same.
They live at the Bay Breeze Motor Home Park on S West Shore Boulevard.
It's safe, and quiet, and beautiful in its own scrappy way, they say. And best of all: Rent is $155 a month.
That leaves a lot of change for grilling the good things in life, the thick porterhouses and the jumbo shrimp. And a lot of time to savor every bite.
"We can eat lobster every day," said Young, 52, a self-employed plumber.
But easy living at "The Resort" is coming to an end.
Thirty townhouses will be built where hundreds of recreational vehicles have come and gone. The City Council okayed a rezoning last week. Construction will begin in October.
Residents have until the end of July to clear out.
Young isn't worried, but Meier, his partner, is upset. She spent her savings, $30,000, on a 34-foot RV. She thought she could stay at Bay Breeze until she died.
"I planned on staying here forever. Forever," said Meier, a beautician with wine-red hair who grew up a few blocks away. "And now this."
The owners said the park's time had come.
"We're sorry that the tradition is gone," said Claudia McCutcheon, whose partner, Tiffan Jones, sold the land to Landcraft Development two weeks ago. "But we're not sorry about the work."
Neighbors aren't mourning the loss, either.
"I'm not going to lose a wink of sleep," said Al Steenson, president of the Gandy Civic Association. "They have pickup trucks in there that haven't been moved in years."
Bay Breeze has been an RV park since at least the 1950s.
Some motor homes dropped anchor for a few months. Some for a few years.
Up to 15 at a time could settle on the 2-acre lot, near the grapefruit trees and Australian pines. Their owners unloaded grills and houseplants onto makeshift porches and set plastic lawn chairs out for friends.
Some grew so comfortable, they didn't care when the wheels rusted out.
Even here, bonds formed.
Meier said she won't forget the Mexican family, or the guy with AIDS, or the old man she baked pumpkin rolls for every Thanksgiving.
"It was wonderful," said former resident Melba Crowder, 62. "We'd go off to the grocery store or anywhere and leave the doors unlocked."
Until a few months ago, Crowder could occasionally be found bumping down West Shore Boulevard in an electric wheelchair, tempting fate on her way to Kash n' Karry. She moved in to Bay Breeze to be with the late Sam Duffy, who tacked a living room and a bedroom onto his jacked-up RV.
Duffy lived there for a decade before his death in 2001. Crowder moved out in April.
The townhouses are "going to be nice," said Crowder, who now lives in Manhattan Place apartments. But it puts park residents in "a tough position."
Hal Swink moved in to Bay Breeze six months ago.
His career as a heavy equipment salesman ended when a roommate accidentally shot him in the leg, he said. Now he's taking classes at Hillsborough Community College so he can finish up a history degree and get a teaching certificate.
In the meantime, home is a metal box 26 feet long, with a 25-inch TV propped on the couch.
"The rent down the road is $100 more a month," said Swink, 51. "That's going to hurt."
The park's demise is a sign of the times.
With rocketing land values, RV and mobile home parks just don't make as much economic sense in South Tampa.
A mile south of Bay Breeze, developers want to turn the Westshore Mobile Home Park into 200 snazzy apartments. The landowner will probably make a killing.
Property records show Jones' family bought Bay Breeze in 1978, for $62,000.
Jones sold it to Landcraft for $475,000, said company CEO James Landers.
"My other half is so happy he doesn't have to cut the grass anymore," McCutcheon said.
As for the tenants: "I'm sorry they're having to be, you know, displaced," she said. But "we are talking travel trailers, RVs. ... That's the whole concept: You can drive off."
Young and Meier said they'll miss the place. But change brings opportunity.
They're thinking about selling their RVs and buying a boat.
